


Seven Minutes in Hell (but this time it's in heaven and it's a little longer than seven minutes)

by gayshiit



Series: Seven Minutes in Hell [2]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Aged-Up Losers Club (IT), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Beverly Marsh & Richie Tozier Are Best Friends, Bill Denbrough & Eddie Kaspbrak Are Best Friends, Blow Jobs, Coming Out, Dominant Eddie Kaspbrak, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, First Dates, First Time Blow Jobs, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Gay Richie Tozier, Hand Jobs, Karaoke, Losers Club (IT) Friendship, M/M, Making Out, Richie Tozier & Stanley Uris Are Best Friends, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Sassy Stanley Uris, Shower Sex, Stanley Uris Knows All, Stanley Uris is a Good Friend, again everyone is of legal drinking and fucking age thanks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:27:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23933047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayshiit/pseuds/gayshiit
Summary: Richie and Eddie meet at the coffee shop the morning after. The Losers go to a karaoke bar together. Richie gets a little too drunk and says too much. Things get steamy in the shower because Richie is a horny little shit.Eddie shoves Richie again, but not too hard. “You know, when I said you should tell people, I didn’t mean like that! Dick!” He adds the last word for good measure. Richie’s grin stretches wider.“Alright, jeez Spaghetti, you can have my dick. You don’t have to shout about it.”“Gross, Richie!”But instead of hitting him again, Eddie laughs and collapses forwards against Richie’s chest, obviously unable to keep up his angry facade. Richie’s heart flutters. “You’re such an idiot,” Eddie breathes into the front of Richie’s shirt. “I only met you yesterday and you’re already the dumbest person I know.”
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: Seven Minutes in Hell [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1717594
Comments: 22
Kudos: 109





	Seven Minutes in Hell (but this time it's in heaven and it's a little longer than seven minutes)

**Author's Note:**

> I had several requests for a part two and it probably isn't as good as anyone expected but its something.
> 
> Just to be clear, all the Losers are over the age of 21. They're in college/uni. Cool cool.

It’s Saturday morning and Richie has a spring in his step. And that’s not just some dry pun about the fact that it’s mid-April and Richie’s eyes are a little more watery than usual, courtesy of the amount of fucking pollen in the air (“Pollen is just plant come,” he distinctly remembers a very drunk Beverly telling him once). No, Richie has a spring in his step because A: He’s feeling unbelievably happy, and B: The reason for this unbelievable happiness is because he knows that the cutest fucking person in the world is quite possibly sitting, waiting for him right now, just a few yards away in the window of the little coffee shop on the corner of the quiet intersection that is barely a ten minute walk from his dorm room. _That’s_ pretty unbelievable in itself.

Richie is grinning like a madman as he floats a foot above the sidewalk, or so it feels, in the direction of the coffee shop. The little bell on the door tinkles as he shoulders it open. The sound is so familiar to him, so comforting, like a reassuring pat on the back.

The moment he steps into the café, he’s startled by an unfamiliar voice calling his name. He shouldn’t be as surprised as he is to spot Bill smiling and waving him over from his perch in one of the loveseats by the window that he and Eddie so often occupy. Bill might not be the “cutest person in the world” that Richie had been expecting to meet, but he politely returns the smile and makes his way over to the guy anyway. He can’t help but notice how Bill looks oddly out of place without a certain tiny brunette at his side. Richie wonders why Bill is even there by himself in the first place.

Bill gets to his feet and Richie sort of feels a bit intimidated. Stan hadn’t been lying when he said Bill was “hot as fuck.” He’s tall and broad-shouldered and definitely not Richie’s type, but he can still appreciate the guy’s good looks, right?

A voice in the back of his mind reminds Richie that it’s probably not normal for him to find every man he lays eyes on attractive. No, he’s totally besotted with Eddie, and he’s not, like, _cheating_ on him by being attracted to those of the male gender. Can he even call it that? _No,_ it can’t be cheating if they’re not technically dating in the first place, what the _fuck._

Being gay confuses Richie at times. He wonders if he’d have the same problem if he was straight. Well, probably. It’s _Richie,_ after all. He doesn’t have particularly high standards for anything. He’d probably be turned on by a mildly phallic cactus.

“R-R-Richie! Hi.”

Richie bites back the cruel joke about Porky Pig that’s lingering on the tip of his tongue. “Hey dude. How’re you feeling after last night?”

Bill shrugs. “M-My head hurts a b-bit, I guess. I d-d-don’t really get hangovers, though.” Richie opens his mouth but Bill cuts off his witty reply. “I kinda w-wanted to talk to you. If you d-don’t mind.”

“Fuck, I feel like I’m back in middle school,” Richie chuckles and scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “What’d I do this time, Big Bill?”

Bill laughs dryly. An anxious knot forms in Richie’s stomach. “You d-didn’t do anything, I just n-need to talk to you a-about Eddie.”

Richie swallows thickly. “Eddie? Why? Did something happen?”

“No, n-n-nothing happened. I just…” Bill sighs and crosses his arms, collapsing back down into his chair. “I l-love Eddie a lot, okay? He’s like a b-b-brother to me.”

Richie perches himself tentatively on the edge of the seat opposite Bill. “Can’t say I know where this is going, man.”

Bill sighs again. “S-Sorry, it’s just, like, I don’t m-mean to be rude or anything b-b-but…” He pauses to rub his thumbs over his eyes. Richie’s heart feels like a jackhammer in his chest. “If someone hurt him” — Bill looks pointedly at Richie as he says this — “I w-would have to kill them.”

Richie raises his eyebrows. He can tell by the tone of his voice that he’s partially joking, but only partially. The knot in his stomach tightens. Has Eddie told him something?

“Well, fair enough,” Richie says simply, and crosses his right leg over his left. Bill leans forward a little.

“You know w-what I mean. He’s just very… _vulnerable._ He’s been f-f-fucked over by p-people before, and I don’t know you w-well enough to, like, m-make a judgement or w-w-whatever but—”

Richie chuckles forcibly. “I _don’t_ know what you mean, dude. Why would I— We’re just _friends._ I’ve known him for like less than a day, man.”

Bill nods but he doesn’t look too convinced. _Fuck,_ Richie thinks. _Is it really that obvious? Do I have a fucking sign glued to my forehead that says ‘I am very much in love with Eddie Kaspbrak’? Either that or the little shit has gone and spilled his guts to Bill._ If that _is_ the case, Richie doesn’t think he could be mad about it. It’s technically none of his business what Eddie tells his friends.

That doesn’t stop the anxiety from rising in his throat like bile. Richie wonders how fast he could theoretically make it to the nearest bathroom.

Bill’s expression finally softens as he sees the way Richie’s knee is now bouncing sporadically between them. Bill cards his fingers through his hair. “S-Sorry. I just… Yeah, I thought you sh-should know.”

Richie would have grinned meekly, but the tinkling of the bell and the slide of timid footsteps behind him has him snapping his neck around. He immediately meets Eddie’s confused gaze, and the brunette’s eyes widen as they flick back and forth between Bill and Richie. Eddie’s grip tightens on his shoulder-bag.

“What the fuck, Bill?” he says softly, and Richie feels the sudden urge to stand up and kiss the frown from his lips.

“Eds, hey.” Bill springs to his feet instead, picking up his takeaway cardboard coffee cup in the process. “I w-was just going. See ya, R-Richie.”

He ruffles Eddie’s hair — a gesture Richie really shouldn’t be jealous of, but his stomach churns nonetheless — on his way out the door, and Eddie turns to watch him leave, jaw slightly agape in disbelief. When he swivels back around to face Richie, his cheeks are flushed pink.

The look Richie gives Eddie must be unintentionally harsh, because Eddie looks mortified as he settles himself in the seat Bill had previously occupied.

“Why did you tell him about us?” Richie doesn’t mean to blurt it out so suddenly, and Eddie shrinks back in his seat a little. Richie feels like an idiot. A fucking asshole. Why the _fuck_ would he even say that?

“I didn’t tell him about us. I told him I was gay, that’s all. Why are you being a dick?”

A lump forms in Richie’s throat. He reaches over and touches Eddie’s knee. “I’m sorry.” Eddie doesn’t brush his hand away. “I didn’t mean— I’m just overwhelmed, I’m sorry. I didn’t really expect to be grilled by your intimidating best friend at ten in the morning. I’m still, like, basically half asleep.”

Eddie chuckles a little, and Richie’s stomach flutters. “No, it’s okay. I get it. I definitely didn’t tell him about us, though. I wouldn’t do that unless you were comfortable with it.” Eddie places a hand awkwardly over Richie’s, and the gesture sends a pang of adoration coursing through Richie’s body. “All I told him was that I’m gay, nothing else. I swear.”

Keeping his right hand firmly on Eddie’s knee, Richie leans forward and uses his other hand to brush a stray strand of hair from Eddie’s eyes. “I’m proud of you for that, man.”

Eddie shrugs dismissively. “It’s not a big deal. I knew he wouldn’t care.”

_Then why the fuck was it so hard for me to tell Stan?_

“How does he know about us if you didn't tell him?” Richie asks instead of wording his thoughts. “He basically told me he’d murder me if I hurt you. Which, like, fair enough, right?”

“Shit,” Eddie laughs. “Of course he would say that. And he’s not dumb, he probably figured it out for himself. He saw me leaving his room last night and he gave me this look. I don’t think I even had to tell him to change his sheets.”

Richie snorts. Eddie glances at him, expression oddly sympathetic.

“You know, I think it would be good for you to tell people.”

The smile fades from Richie’s face almost immediately, and he nudges his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “I told Stan,” he says timidly, “last night, in the closet. Well, he kinda figured it out for himself. I think I accidentally said something dumb about you being jealous.”

“Well, you weren’t wrong.” Eddie grins and laces his fingers with Richie’s, which is probably one of the nicest feelings, like, _ever._ Well, not _the_ nicest, but it’s certainly high on his list; way up there with kissing Eddie and Eddie touching his dick and Eddie moaning his name. Those are definitely things that Richie should not be thinking about right now. He briefly wonders if Eddie has thought about what they did last night. Surely it had been memorable, being Eddie’s first time and all.

Eddie’s thumb stroking over the back of his hand pulls Richie from his daydreams. “Richie, do you want to be my boyfriend?”

The question is so sudden, so out of the blue, yet so fucking meaningful, and all the tension that had been previously building inside of Richie releases itself, like a balloon deflating. He can’t help the dopey smile that works its way over his lips. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Eddie is positively glowing now. Richie feels a sense of pride swirling in his gut. 

“Can I kiss you?”

Richie almost forgets there are other people in the café as he nods and leans in eagerly. They’re all minding their own business, but they’re still _people,_ and Richie has never imagined he’d be doing this in front of anyone, not even in his wildest dreams. In his nightmares, maybe.

But as Eddie’s lips move gently over his own in a quick but passionate kiss and no one bats an eyelid, Richie doesn’t think it’s so bad after all.

Eddie pulls away first and cups Richie’s cheek. “Me and Bill and Ben and Mike are doing karaoke tonight,” he says softly. “It’s dumb, but it’s like a monthly tradition for us. You should come. Bring Stan and Beverly.”

Richie grins lopsidedly and pecks Eddie’s nose. “Sounds _extremely_ dumb. I’d love to.”

*

Richie sort of regrets everything after his sixth shot.

He definitely doesn’t regret coming to Eddie’s stupid karaoke night, but he _does_ regret getting drunk enough to the point where he can’t stand without stumbling and the world feels like it’s spinning around him. 

So far he’s been pretty good at controlling himself around Eddie, but he won’t deny he’s a horny drunk, and Eddie’s pink cheeks and little giggles and occasional sideways glances at Richie are just a bit too much for him to handle. So he decides to do something about it.

Beverly and Ben are on the stage — if it can even be called that — at the front of the tiny karaoke bar that’s just a ten minute drive outside of campus, standing back to back, microphones clutched in their sweaty hands. They’re singing something from High School Musical; a love song, Richie guesses. Something about breaking free. That’s not really his main concern at the moment, though.

His main concern, of course, is Eddie, who’s standing beside the chair Richie is slumped in, waving his beer around wildly as he engages in a heated conversation with Stanley. If Richie wasn’t so drunk, he’d tease Eddie about drinking after insisting he doesn’t, but now he can only grin lovingly up at him. He reaches a hand out and drags it down Eddie’s thigh, causing the brunette to freeze and glance shyly down at him. Stan is pretty drunk too, but Richie catches his knowing smirk as he tugs at Eddie’s leg.

“Richie, stop.” There is no vigour in Eddie’s voice. It’s hardly a protest. Richie takes this opportunity to pull Eddie entirely down onto his lap, wrapping his arms around the smaller man’s middle. Eddie doesn’t struggle away, but he rolls his eyes.

“You’re so drunk, your breath reeks,” Eddie hisses. Richie’s grin stretches wider.

“You’re hot when you’re trying to be angry.”

“Richie…”

Richie’s eyes drift down to the waist of Eddie’s pants, only because his shirt has lifted slightly, and now Richie has a clear view of the waistband of his boxers. “Why does your underwear say ‘Wednesday’?”

Eddie blushes and yanks his shirt down. He shifts uncomfortably in Richie’s lap. “Why are you even looking at my underwear, you pervert?”

“It’s Saturday, dummy!”

“You’re so fucking annoying.”

“Only for you, Eds.”

Eddie opens his mouth to fire back at him — probably something along the lines of, “That’s not my name, asshole!” — but he’s interrupted by Bev grabbing Richie’s shoulders from behind. Eddie hauls himself off Richie’s lap, much to Richie’s dismay.

“Rich, it’s your turn.” Bev is clutching Ben’s hand and her auburn curls are flying wildly across her face. Richie thinks she looks very pretty. “Come on, you have to sing. You and Stan. Let’s go.”

“I’m not going up there.” Stan crosses his arms and leans to one side so his hip juts out, and Richie laughs absentmindedly at how sassy he looks.

“You have to. Richie doesn’t want to sing by himself, do you, Rich?” Bev cocks her head at Richie, awaiting his response. Richie waves her off and stumbles to his feet.

“Stan is just a party pooper, I'll do it myself, I don’t care,” he slurs. Relief flashes across Stan’s face.

Bev just shrugs and gestures loosely towards the stage. 

Richie selects a song at random, and when Cyndi Lauper’s ‘Girls Just Want to Have Fun’ starts to blast through the speakers, he giggles and belts out the first line, extremely out of tune. He vaguely hears his friends’ cheers from where they are now twisting and twirling wildly on the dance floor, shouting words of encouragement here and there. Even in his horribly drunken state, Richie feels his heart swell. His _friends_ ; the people who care about him and support him and love him, and will keep loving him _no matter what..._

Richie’s vision clears just enough for him to focus on Eddie, who has pushed his sweaty hair into a quiff atop his forehead and has his pink tongue trapped between even pinker lips… and Richie is left so breathless from the sight alone that he stops singing for a moment and just hums the melody into his microphone. Eddie is smiling as he looks over at him. Their eyes meet, and Richie’s stomach churns. 

_“I think it would be good for you to tell people.”_

Richie’s grip on his microphone tightens, his knuckles turning white.

“You know what, fuck this,” Richie mumbles, and he looks away from Eddie. This will be easy. It’s going to be easy, because he’s drunk, and because he _knows_ no one cares. The only one who’s making this into a big deal is himself.

Maybe what he’s about to do is a tad overdramatic, but Richie _is_ the CEO of that department, after all.

“I wanna say something.” Richie licks his lips, ignoring the song’s backing vocals repeating, ‘They just wanna, they just wanna’ over and over, as if waiting for him to join in. He's not going to join in. He’s going to open his stupid fucking trashmouth in front of a hundred strangers, instead. 

“I have something I wanna tell my friends. Everyone else can, like, block their fucking ears. Yeah. Block your ears.” Richie giggles manically and sways a little on the spot. He looks out over the crowd and sees that Eddie is pushing his way towards the stage, the blissful expression on his face now morphing into one of confusion and… horror? Embarrassment? But Richie keeps talking anyway, because Richie is drunk, and he knows that he’s never gonna do this if he doesn’t do it right now. Fuck it. Fuck it all. _You’re the only one who cares. No one else will give a shit._

“Stanley Urine.” Richie giggles again at the nickname, his microphone bumping against his chin. “Stan, my best friend in the _whole world._ He already knows this, but like, Bev is my other best friend in the whole world, and she doesn’t know. So I’m gonna tell her.” Richie looks out at his relatively small audience and spots Stanley with his head in his hands, Bev standing beside him with an arm slung over his shoulder and her eyebrows raised. And for some unknown reason, without any hesitation, Richie decides to continue.

“So basically, I’m gay. Just so you all know. And I also have a boyfriend. So.”

There are a few amused cheers and a couple of people start clapping, but Richie‘s mainly focused on the fact that he just did _that,_ and the whole world _hasn’t_ collapsed around him. Holy _shit._ Holy _fuck._ He can’t think. He thinks… he thinks… he thinks he’s going to pass out. Or maybe throw up. Or maybe both at the same time.

He sees Eddie approaching in his peripheral vision, but still gets a shock when warm fingers curl around his wrist and his microphone is taken gently from his hand. Somewhere through the haze of Richie’s mind and eyes and ears, Eddie is saying, “Okay, we’re going home. Come on.” Richie wants to protest, but he thinks that if he opens his mouth, he might just spew forth a little something more than stupid, drunken words. So he lets himself be dragged away from the stage and away from the people and away from the shitty karaoke bar, and for once, he keeps his big mouth shut. 

He knows he’s outside when his bare arms prickle with goosebumps. It may be spring, but the nights are still uncomfortably cold, and the air bites at the heat of his flushed skin.

Eddie shoves his chest, crowding him up against the wall outside the bar, and Richie grins lopsidedly.

“What the fuck, dude?”

Richie tangles his fingers in the back of Eddie’s hair. “ _What the fuck, dude_?” His half-hearted imitation of Eddie is scarily accurate. Richie thinks it’s cute, the way the shorter man’s voice goes all high when he shouts.

“Don’t.” Eddie shoves Richie again, but not too hard. “You know, when I said you should tell people, I didn’t mean like that! Dick!” He adds the last word for good measure. Richie’s grin stretches wider.

“Alright, jeez Spaghetti, you can have my dick. You don’t have to shout about it.”

“Gross, Richie!”

But instead of hitting him again, Eddie laughs and collapses forwards against Richie’s chest, obviously unable to keep up his angry facade. Richie’s heart flutters. “You’re such an idiot,” Eddie breathes into the front of Richie’s shirt. “I only met you yesterday and you’re already the dumbest person I know.”

“That’s rude.” Richie pokes his pointer finger into Eddie’s side, making him squirm. “It’s your fault anyway. I was just listening to your advice. I was being _impulsive_.”

Eddie pulls back to look at Richie, his eyes flitting briefly down his body and back up to his lips. Richie shivers, but not because he’s cold.

Fingers threading into the fabric of Richie’s stupid Hawaiian shirt, Eddie breathes out, “Well, you’re kinda hot when you’re impulsive.”

And then Richie can’t help it, he’s leaning down to kiss him, and Eddie’s standing on his toes to reach him because he’s _so fucking small_ , which is not something Richie could ever complain about. They’re pressing their bodies together, Richie’s hands are in Eddie’s hair, and Eddie’s tongue is pushing into Richie’s mouth. It’s all very desperate and sloppy, but so fucking hot, and Richie is more aroused than he would like to admit. His clouded brain doesn’t even care that they’re still in public. He just goes on kissing Eddie like his life depends on it, and Eddie kisses him back with just as much passion.

It’s only when Eddie’s thigh is nudging dangerously close to Richie’s crotch that they finally break apart.

“Oh my god.” Eddie pulls away to laugh hysterically, Richie chasing after his lips and whining in a way that would be humiliating if he was sober. “You’re… Rich, you’re hard. We can’t… oh my god.”

Eddie is laughing so hard now that he has to fling an arm against the brick wall behind him to steady himself. Richie narrows his eyes and looks down at the obvious tent in his pants. Oh.

“Dude… come on, let’s go back to my dorm. I’ll call an Uber.”

“Can we still—”

“You’re fucking wasted, Richie!” Eddie reaches up to wipe tears of laughter from his eyes. He’s still giggling, and Richie wants to be furious at him. He’s furious that he _can’t_ be furious at him. “I’m not doing anything with you while you’re this drunk.”

“Eddie,” Richie pouts and reaches for Eddie, but the shorter man just takes his desperate hand into his own and laces their fingers together.

“Come on, idiot.”

“But you—”

“We can lay in bed and I’ll cuddle you.”

Richie raises an eyebrow.

“Cuddling is better than sex,” Eddie insists, and Richie very reluctantly shrugs and allows Eddie to pull him down to the side of the road. Eddie snakes an arm around Richie’s waist — which shouldn’t turn him on even more, but it does — and takes out his phone to call an Uber. As the screen illuminates his face, Richie can’t help staring, awestruck, at the curve of Eddie’s nose and the dip of his lips and the way his eyelashes seem to kiss his cheeks with every blink. And he wonders how the fuck he managed to get so lucky.

*

Richie wakes up with a pounding head and about a hundred texts and missed calls from Bev and Stan. There’s even a few texts from Bill, he observes, as he starts scrolling through his notifications. He’s not too surprised, though. Eddie probably sent him his number after Richie gave it to him at the coffee shop the previous morning.

Thinking about yesterday makes Richie’s head hurt even more. He doesn’t really remember much from the night before, only that he was at a karaoke bar with Eddie and he had to sing something and—

One text in particular jumps out at Richie, making his stomach turn a couple of somersaults.

 **Staniel Urine  
11:36pm**  
As stupid as you are, I’m proud of you for coming out, Rich.

Fuck. That’s right.

Richie suddenly feels far too hot and he kicks the duvet off himself; the duvet that is quite obviously not his own. _Eddie’s_ duvet. _Shit._

Richie turns over and is faced with nothing but empty sheets. Eddie isn’t lying curled against his side in the position he now remembers they fell asleep in, the small twin bed only serving as an excuse for them to cuddle even closer together. Richie isn’t too worried, though, because this _is_ Eddie’s dorm room, and Eddie is kind of his boyfriend now, and it’s not like they fucked or did anything either of them would regret. Richie almost sighs out loud with relief.

He reads through some more texts.

 **Bev  
11:32pm**  
wtf??? can’t believe u never told me dickhead

 **Bev  
11:32pm**  
i’m gonna fucking cry

 **Staniel Urine  
11:33pm**  
Are you okay?

 **Bev  
11:33pm**  
i love u i’m proud of u i hope ur ok

 **Staniel Urine  
11:34pm**  
Are you gonna stay with Eddie tonight?

 **Staniel Urine  
11:35pm**  
Ok you’re not gonna answer me. You’re a certified dumbass, you know that?

 **Bev  
11:35pm**  
eddie had better take good care of u or i’ll come after his ass

 **Unknown Number  
11:37pm**  
Hey Richie, it’s Bill. I hope you’re okay. I just wanted to say that Mike, Ben and I are all very proud of you and we love you. I’m sorry if I said anything this morning that hurt you, I just care about Eddie a lot. I think you two are perfect for each other.

 **Unknown Number  
11:38pm**  
Oh yeah, and Ben’s gonna crash with me and Mike, so you and Eddie have the room to yourselves. :)

Richie chuckles softly to himself. He tries to ignore the lump forming in his throat. They all love him. Of course they do. There is no world in which they _wouldn’t_ love him for this _thing_ that he’s always despised about himself. Richie sniffs. Oh fuck, he can’t cry. He can’t let himself cry. Not over _this_. What a fucking pussy.

Richie scrolls back up to the top of his notifications and spots a text from Eddie. He reads it carefully, still blinking back tears.

 **Spageddie <3**  
**8:54am**  
if you wake up while i’m gone, i’m just having a shower x

Richie’s abdomen clenches as his eyes skim over the “x” at the end of the message for the thousandth time. It’s pathetic, he knows, but generally everything Richie does is pathetic. Like the way he’s almost crying right now over basically nothing at all.

Another part of the message does admittedly spark his interest, and he rolls lazily out of bed, stretching his arms above his head. Richie knows the shower that Eddie is referring to is one of the communal ones just down the hall, almost identical to those in Richie’s own dorm building. It’s still early — well, early for a Sunday morning — so Richie doesn’t really consider the possibility of others using the showers at the same time as Eddie. Richie would still be asleep himself if it weren’t for the sunlight streaming in through the window where Eddie had clearly forgotten to close the blinds the night before. Richie can’t even be irritated by that, because just the thought of kissing Eddie good morning in the shower gets him hotter than it should.

Richie pulls on his jeans and his white and blue Hawaiian shirt without buttoning it, and heads out the door without locking it behind him. It’s not like he has a key, anyway, and he’s sure no one would try and break into Eddie’s room at nine in the morning. He trudges down the hall towards the showers, and is quite delighted when he finds the bathroom empty apart from one occupied cubicle in the far right corner, from which he can hear water running and someone humming softly to the tune of—

“You’re singing my song!” Richie laughs and rubs the back of his neck as the melody of ‘Girls Just Want To Have Fun’ is cut off by a little whimper of surprise.

“Richie?” A small, slightly timid voice echoes off the walls of the bathroom, and Richie grins, sliding across the tiles towards Eddie’s cubicle. “You’re awake.”

“You’re showering,” Richie replies matter-of-factly.

“I am.”

“I thought I might have a shower, too.”

The door of the cubicle opens a tiny bit and Eddie’s surprised face appears from around the side of it. Richie almost “aw”s out loud at the way his dark hair is plastered across his forehead and water droplets are rolling down his chin and onto the tiles below. Richie takes a step forward. He smirks as Eddie’s eyes travel over his partially exposed torso.

“Like what you see, Eds?”

“Shut up, don’t call me Eds.”

Richie’s smirk pulls even wider. “Why don’t you make me?”

Richie swears that a shiver runs over Eddie’s body at that. He glances down at his feet as a blush rises on his cheeks.

“Permission to enter, Captain Spaghetti?” Richie cups his hands and holds them over his mouth to make his voice all muffled and distorted, like it’s coming from an old radio. Eddie snorts, but doesn’t answer him.

In the brief silence that follows, Richie thinks Eddie might tell him to get lost, or that he doesn’t want to do this. But then Eddie is biting his lip and opening the door a fraction more and saying, “Might wanna take your clothes off first, Tozier. Wouldn't want them to get wet.”

Richie beams, immediately shrugging his shirt from his shoulders. “That’s not the only thing that’s gonna get wet—”

“Richie, shut up or I swear to god I won’t let you in here.”

So Richie shuts up, because he really doesn’t want to ruin this.

He discards his jeans and boxers as fast as humanly possible, and nudges open the cubicle door, suddenly feeling a little shy. This is the first time they’ll see each other naked, and although he’s nervous, Richie is already slightly hard at the thought.

Eddie blinks at him, and Richie almost forgets to close and lock the door behind him, because Eddie is standing there in front of him, completely exposed and dripping with water, and Richie is practically drooling.

“You’re fucking beautiful,” he says simply, wiping the steam from his glasses so that he can continue to drink in the sight of Eddie. The brunette swallows hard, and for a minute, they both stand there in comfortable silence, just looking at each other, admiring each other, in awe of each other. Until eventually, Eddie speaks.

“Y-You…” he begins, voice shaking ever so slightly. “You’re… C-Can I touch you?”

Richie isn’t sure what part of him Eddie wants to touch, but he nods so enthusiastically that he’s afraid his neck might snap right off.

Eddie’s hands are on Richie’s shoulders and chest and stomach and waist, and their lips are pressing together in a kiss that is far too tender and sweet for this heated situation, but neither of them care because it just makes everything so much more intimate. Richie tangles his fingers in Eddie’s hair and he moans, the sound sending a shockwave through Richie’s body and, admittedly, straight down to his dick. 

Eddie, noticing his not-so-little problem, nudges his thigh between Richie’s legs, and Richie whimpers and practically melts like putty in Eddie’s hands.

“Uhh, god. That feels good.”

Eddie blushes. “You still have your glasses on, dipshit.”

Richie’s glasses are definitely the least of his worries right now, but he doesn’t protest when Eddie lifts them from his nose and places them on the ledge on the wall beside his bar of soap. Then he nibbles at Richie’s jaw, and rubs circles into his hips, and Richie groans low in his throat.

“Oh fuck, Eddie, can I suck you off?”

The question catches them both a little off-guard. Richie doesn’t really know where those words came from — often his mouth works faster than his brain — but he’s a hundred and ten percent down if Eddie is too. Which he, to Richie’s relief, clearly is, because his response is to grab Richie’s shoulders and shove him down onto his knees. Richie didn’t ever previously imagine he’d have a thing for being manhandled by small, bossy brunettes, but here he is.

Richie won’t lie, he’s never been face-to-face with a dick in his life. Sure, he fucked a few girls during his Teenage Sexuality Crisis™, and he’s messed around with a couple of guys, but never in his life has he done… _this_. And the terrifying thing is, Richie doesn’t even hesitate to lick a stripe up Eddie’s dick, because he’s just _that_ smitten, and as Eddie whimpers and grabs hold of his hair, Richie realises he would do just about anything that Eddie asked him to.

“Fuck, Richie, holy shit.”

Richie genuinely has no idea what he’s doing, but he’s seen people do it in porn, and it doesn’t look too hard (hard, ha ha). So he tests the waters and sinks down onto Eddie’s dick, which causes the brunette to slap a hand over his mouth to stifle an obnoxious moan. Richie almost has to pull off because he’s grinning so hard.

“Richie,” Eddie breathes, tugging slightly on Richie’s hair, urging him on. “Richie, if you keep doing that I’m gonna come.”

The one annoying part about sucking Eddie’s dick is that Richie can’t talk, so he misses a great opportunity to make fun of Eddie for coming too early. Instead, he starts bobbing his head, not quite able to fit all of Eddie inside his mouth, but Eddie doesn’t seem too bothered, because his head is now thrown back against the shower wall. He utters a long string of curses and tugs harder on Richie’s hair.

Richie finally pulls off with an obscene pop and gazes up at Eddie, panting, before saying breathlessly, “I thought _I_ was the one who couldn’t stop talking.”

Eddie flushes even pinker than he already is, but he narrows his eyes down at Richie. “Shut the fuck up. I’ll leave this fucking sh— ahh!”

Eddie is caught by surprise as Richie once again wraps his lips around Eddie’s dick. This time, Eddie can’t help bucking forwards slightly, but Richie places a firm hand on his hip to make sure he doesn’t, you know, choke and die. 

As Eddie’s little breaths and moans and curses become more frequent and unintelligible, Richie reaches a hand down to touch himself. Fuck, he’s pretty sure he could come in the next few minutes, just from the sight of Eddie alone. The guy looks absolutely spent, holding himself up against Richie’s shoulders, eyes squeezed shut and bottom lip trapped between his teeth. Richie doesn’t even mind if he doesn’t get a warning. He just adores seeing Eddie like this, all blissed out because of _his_ mouth. Fucking shit, this is hot.

It’s when Richie’s tongue swirls against the head of Eddie’s dick that the brunette yanks Richie’s hair and moans louder than Richie has ever heard, and then he’s jerking his hips and coming into Richie’s mouth and Richie takes it all like a champ.

As he comes down, Eddie makes a sound similar to a sob and slides to his ass on the floor of the shower. Richie spits into the drain, making a face, because even though he fucking loves Eddie Kaspbrak, he doesn’t particularly fancy the taste of his come. Maybe he’ll get used to it, who knows.

Richie shimmies forwards on his knees and kisses Eddie on the forehead, wrapping his arms around the smaller man’s back and pulling them together. Eddie smiles and nuzzles his face into Richie’s neck. Richie would be happy to just lay like this for hours, or at least until the water goes cold or someone comes in and yells at them. But Richie doesn’t really want to end up turning into a prune. His fingers are wrinkled too much already.

“Want me to…” Eddie gestures towards Richie’s own dick, which is still very much hard, and Richie shakes his head.

“Not unless you want to. I can just—”

“Don’t be stupid. You just gave me probably the best fucking blowjob in the world, so. Here.”

Richie would be lying if he says he doesn’t blush at Eddie’s praise. He closes his eyes and leans his head against Eddie’s chest as the brunette wraps a hand around his dick and starts to stroke him at a surprisingly fast pace for someone who just orgasmed a minute ago. Richie presses soft kisses to Eddie’s skin, breathing little words of encouragement against his chest, until he begins to feel heat pooling in his stomach. Eddie’s free hand moves to push the hair out of his face, and then he’s smiling lovingly down at Richie, before pressing their lips together. Richie moans into Eddie’s mouth as he spills all over Eddie’s hand and their stomachs, and Eddie keeps kissing him and stroking him through it, tilting his head and slipping his tongue between Richie’s parted lips.

Fuck. Richie is so in love with this man. 

He’s lived for months watching Eddie drink his coffee, watching Eddie type furiously on his laptop, watching Eddie stare dreamily out of the café window at nothing in particular. He’s wasted all this time; all the time he could have been spending doing _this_. Kissing Eddie, touching Eddie, _being touched_ by Eddie. He feels like he’s known this man for his whole life. He feels like he’s loved him ever since he first laid eyes on him. His chest _aches_. His whole body _aches_ , and it’s not because he’s just had one of the best orgasms of his life.

Without thinking, Richie whispers four words into Eddie’s chest. 

“God, I love you.”

And then he’s wincing, because Eddie isn’t saying anything back. He’s just running his hands through Richie’s hair, his fingers catching on a knot every now and again and gently untangling it. 

And Richie’s speaking again, because when is he _not_.

“I’m sorry. You don’t have to say anything back. I know you haven’t thought of me like that for as long as I have. I’m s—”

“Richie.”

Richie squeezes his eyes shut and “hm”s against Eddie’s chest.

“How long have you thought about me like that?”

As much as he wants to stay right where he is, his body moulded perfectly with Eddie’s, Richie sits up on his knees. “Fuck. Do we have to talk about this? I shouldn’t have even—”

“Please, Rich.” Eddie is looking at him like _that,_ and there are stupid water droplets on his stupid eyelashes and he looks so stupid and beautiful. Richie sighs.

“I’ve loved you ever since I first saw you at the coffee shop.”

Eddie’s lips stretch into a grin, but it’s not one of pity or sympathy. It’s warm and full and easily takes over Eddie’s entire face. “I don’t think that’s even possible. You didn’t know me.”

Richie leans forward now, hand reaching down to lightly hit Eddie’s knee. “But it is! You were so _sexy_ , you know, I just… I fell in love on the spot.”

“That’s shallow, Tozier. Real shallow,” Eddie giggles, his eyes bright. “What if I turned out to be a complete asshole? Would you still love me?”

Richie smirks. “You _are_ a complete asshole, and I _do_ still love you.”

They almost forget where they are for a second — naked on the floor of a shower that’s getting colder by the second — as Eddie pounces on Richie and starts hitting his shoulder. “Fuck you! You’re the asshole, you suck.”

“You got that part right, Eds.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

“Maybe one day.”

Eddie looks mortified, and Richie just cackles and flings himself back into Eddie’s arms. Back where he belongs.

They eventually haul themselves out of the shower and dry off with Eddie’s towel, talking in hushed whispers as if they hadn’t just been moaning loud enough to wake the entire building. Richie watches Eddie struggle into a pair of clean boxers, and he smirks as his eyes drift over the waistband.

“Jesus, dude. Does your underwear ever know what day it is?”

Eddie blushes, glancing down at the bold letters spelling out ‘Friday’ on his boxers. He flings his towel at Richie. “At least I have clean underwear. Here, put this around your waist.”

Richie obeys with a giggle and scoops up his dirty clothes. He holds open the door for Eddie, and is pleasantly surprised when the brunette leans up to kiss him on the cheek on their way out of the bathroom. What surprises him even more is when Eddie pauses in his tracks, and the words that fall from his mouth are enough to stun even Richie ‘Trashmouth’ Tozier into silence.

“By the way, Rich.” Eddie turns his head and holds his hand out towards Richie. “I love you too.”

Richie’s head is far above the clouds as their fingers and their hearts intertwine.

**Author's Note:**

> I hate the end of this omg
> 
> Also totally let me know if I should turn this into a whole ass series or if it's fine as it is because these were really fun to write :)


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